


Dirge of the Everlasting

by WaterSeraphim



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon Divergence - Battle for Azeroth (Warcraft), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Shadow Priest Anduin Wrynn, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterSeraphim/pseuds/WaterSeraphim
Summary: After the destruction of the Undercity, Nathanos can no longer sit by and watch his queen tear Azeroth apart. With a group of Forsaken in tow, he heads to the Alliance king hoping Anduin will be able to stop her. The two form an unlikely friendship and resolve to take her down together.
Relationships: Lilian Voss/Valeera Sanguinar (background), Nathanos Blightcaller/Anduin Wrynn, Nathanos Blightcaller/Anduin Wrynn/Wrathion, Nathanos Blightcaller/Wrathion, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first story for this series, and hopefully the first longfic I’m actually going to finish. The set number of chapters is tentative and future to change. I have a large portion of this already written out and ready to post~ so I’ll be doing relatively frequent updates early on 
> 
> Wrathion won’t be showing up for quite some time, as a warning. The beginning arc of this story will be heavily focused on Nathanos and his character growth. Polyamory shenanigans ensue later

Anduin opened his eyes to darkness. He stood somewhere in between, scanning the horizon brought a dreadful sense of familiarity. He’d been here before, somehow. Twisted abominations of bubbling shadow and mist blacked out the horizon. 

There was no light in this place.

He looked to his feet, and found himself standing on a ledge. The world below continuously shrunk further and further, whatever plane he stood on growing tall into the sky. Splatters of the inklike fluid oozing from the ground ran up his legs, covered his hands.

A cry of alarm came from below, sending Anduin scrambling to the aid of whoever was in need, only to find a reflection of himself hanging onto a cliff’s ledge. His face struck with fear as this copy gazed upon him. A faint light illuminated from it, shining in a golden aura, and quickly being smothered out by the corruption of the world around them. 

Desperately he reached out to save it. As Anduin extended his arm he found his fingers elongated and talon like. His skin hardened into chitinous and jagged purple plates. The other Anduin recoiled at the slightest touch, but quickly acclimated and clutched on to him for dear life. At the point where they connected strange tendrils curled out of his claws and wrapped around the other Anduin’s tender flesh. Slowly crawling up his entire arm as Anduin struggled to lift him up and over the ledge. 

“You let it inside your head!” the other Anduin cried out in horror. “Look what you’ve done. You’ve doomed all of Azeroth!”

This place was Azeroth? No, it couldn’t be… 

“A small price to pay.” A dark voice laughed, low and vibrating with the tremor of corruption. It emanated from what Anduin soon realized was _himself_. 

“There’s still hope. Don’t give in. Light, please, don’t give in!” the other Anduin practically begged. His other hand was scrambling to grab on to Anduin’s twisted forearm. His blue eyes were wide with panic. 

“You’re terribly mistaken, little king. Your resolve is even weaker than you think,” the shadow laughed raucously. “It’s far too late. _I’m already here_.”

Anduin extended one of his unnaturally long talons and stuck the tip of it into the other man’s forehead. 

“No…”

“Your mind is mine. Your kingdom is mine. Soon, all of Azeroth will be mine! But for now, your awakening arrives.”

Anduin blinked disorientedly, the world around him coming into a muddy focus. At first the memories of whatever dream he’d just fled from were vague. He had no inkling as to why his pulse raced, or why his breath was caught floundering in his throat. Taking in slow, calming inhales he slowly brought himself back under control. The fear that took hold of his body had no name, but it gripped him all the same.

And then pieces returned to him, glimpses of horror, of a dying world devoid of light. The panic in his chest returned tenfold, he jerked his arms upward only to find them trapped by a maze of tangled fabric. It only aided in making him more tense, he erratically threw his limbs in every which way until the accursed blankets finally flew off. Anduin looked to his arms, finding them blessedly not purple and free of any tentacles. Gasping in relief, he saw that the rest of the skin he searched was in a similar state. He tested his voice and found his usual tone, not one tainted by the echoes of insanity. 

It was still the dead of night, Anduin discerned as he glanced to the general direction of his arched windows. No light seeped through beyond the faint glow of the moon, drowning his chambers in darkness. His staff tended to draw the curtains tightly shut for him so as not to be awoken by the first rays of morning. 

With a simple push of his will he summoned an orb of Light in his hand. Given the nightmare he’d just had, it gave him a sort of reassurance to see that he still _could_ call upon the Light. His connection to it was as strong as ever, tempered by his faith and resolve. 

Using it to guide him, Anduin rolled out of his bed, fumbling about his private room to get himself mildly prepared for the coming day. He knew that sleep would no longer find him even if he tried. 

This was not the first dream of its kind Anduin had jolted awake from as of late. The same nightmare landscape and calling of the shadow had haunted him for months. It troubled him, to say the least. Velen had warned him of the dangers of succumbing to the voices whispering at the edge of his mind. Anduin had not used the Shadow frequently, only in a state of fear in the most dangerous situations. For whatever reason it came to him more readily at those times, feeding off of his desperation and need. He knew he was edging on dangerous territory when the voices grew louder. Whenever that happened he made sure to stay away until they faded back into quiet.

But they never truly left. 

  
  
  



	2. Nathanos I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathanos makes a decision, and Anduin wakes up from a nightmare.

Nathanos’ private residence in Orgrimmar was sparse. He had little use of it outside of holding his belongings, and his last two blighthounds. The two beasts were usually found lounging together in a ball on his bed. Paws tangled together in a bizarre puzzle of fluffy limbs. There were rare occasions in which he was not out training recruits, or off doing missions for his queen. He did not spend much time in this place. He had no interest in any sentimental keepsakes or decorations. He only came into owning it at all because of his lady’s ascension to Warchief. Even then, he prefered to spend his time in the Undercity. Where there were next to no orcs, and he was surrounded by his own people. Of course, that was before Lordaeron had been destroyed. 

Now the undead were crammed into Orgrimmar, forced to live among those who never truly accustomed to their existence. The Horde did not  _ like _ the Forsaken, it tolerated them. There were still businesses that refused to serve undead customers, landlords that wouldn’t welcome undead tennants. Those issues became further aggravated with the sheer number of displaced Forsaken. Many were homeless, left to wander the streets and slowly waste away in the dusty canyons. Their skin slowly baking, stinking of hot rotting decay. 

While Nathanos was the Warchief’s champion, he did not escape the same mistreatment, he was still viewed with scorn and prejudice among the Horde. 

The Forsaken didn’t belong here. Of all the crimes his lady had made him complicit in, this one had brought him to the edge. Why had she willingly destroyed their city? Their only home? There was little gain for the Alliance, beyond metaphorically holding one over Sylvanas. The area was sparse and wracked by the Scourge, few resources grew, and the land was tainted by rot. In all likelihood, they could have taken it back in the future. And if the tides did not end in their favor, the boy king would likely have turned it back over to them at the war’s end as a show of peace. 

It was not the first of the grievances that Nathanos had begun to question his queen for. Time and time again she ignored his advice, pushing him to commit evils that made him balk even in his undead state. There was a line she was crossing, and Nathanos knew soon he could no longer stand for it.

If it was only him at risk, he would stay and try and reason with her. Change her mind. He knew it was unlikely that it would do anything, but he could at least get some closure. But Nathanos was not alone, he was surrounded by Forsaken that were suffering from their leader’s actions. That feared for their safety among the Horde. He might have thought it foolish in the past, but he had seen the Gathering. Nathanos had watched as Sylvanas ordered her own people to be slain.

Lilian Voss had arrived in the city several weeks ago in response to what happened at Lordaeron. She was a rarity among the Forsaken, someone with a bleeding heart. Nathanos ignored her at first, until the woman kept finding him. Pestering him, pushing him to meet with the undead around the hold. She convinced him of many things, making him aware of the suffering the Forsaken were going through now. Homeless, many completely without belongings except the rags on their backs. Large portions of the undead in the Undercity had just been ordinary civilians. Artisans, craftspeople trying to find their purpose in the strange state between life and death. 

She also made Nathanos realize the ways in which Sylvanas was lacking as their leader. In the recent past she had been scolded by her representatives that she was favoring the Forsaken too much. Given the state of things, Nathanos dreaded to consider the scope of that, with how Sylvanas had mercilessly killed her own. 

Lilian kept applying her pressure, playing on the few emotions he still had left. It was his duty to pick up where his queen was failing. He had to lead the Forsaken for her.

And to do that he needed to leave the Horde. 

The Alliance king was sympathetic to a fault. Lilian was certain he would accept Nathanos if he came to him looking for mercy and aid. In the past he had wished to help reunite the Forsaken with their living relatives. Certainly, he wouldn’t mind protecting the undead who were escaping Sylvanas.

The hardest part, in the end, was coping with letting her go. After everything she had done for him, it was the ultimate betrayal. Lilian had helped him with this as well, the coping. She was quite skilled at bringing the people around her to be at peace. Nathanos knew more than anyone else that Sylvanas was walking down a dark path of death and destruction. The war was only a game for her to gain more power, to create more Forsaken. And perhaps there was even more lurking down in the depths that even he did not know of. But she refused to allow those who already existed to have any fraying loyalties. She destroyed the Undercity to make them vengeful, in hopes they’d turn their rage against the Alliance. 

Nathanos couldn’t stand by and watch her, he couldn’t allow her to use him like a tool any longer. He would go to the Alliance, and help them stop her.

That was how he found himself taking in roughly two dozen Forsaken over the course of several weeks. It was a tight fit, his living space wasn’t small, but it wasn’t large either. If anybody wondered why there were fewer and fewer undead on the streets, they took it as a blessing rather than a sign of alarm. The hounds took a particular liking to all of his guests, since Nathanos never gave them as many scratches as they did. 

He planned their escape with Lilian, making sure to flee only at the opportune time, and to cover their trail.

The day came quickly. A Forsaken mage in their midst portaled them to the ruins of Lordaeron. They made their way down south across the Eastern Kingdoms to Stormwind. With his hounds he scouted out their path while Lilian and the few that could fight would stay to defend the others. Despite the advantages that came with being undead, such as not needing to stop and rest, they were only so fast without any horses. Much of the journey involved roughing it in the wilds, and evading detection by any Alliance patrols. 

Once they were within a few hours' distance of Stormwind, Nathanos set up camp. 

With something akin to grief weighing in his gut, Nathanos brought his blighthounds away from the others. He crouched to the ground, bringing his hand to Blight-Howl’s snout and giving the beast a somber pat. The creature wriggled its nose against Nathanos’ arm, pleading for more attention and likely confused as to why he was getting any in the first place. Nathanos wrapped his other arm around Plaguefang’s neck, running his fingers through her fluffy mane. He held both of his hounds close to him, resting his temple against Blight-Howl’s cheek. 

“This is no place for blighthounds,” Nathanos muttered.

Plaguefang sniffed before licking his beard. 

“If I could bring you with me, I would. But you deserve better than the stuffy walls of the Alliance. It’s time for you to go  _ home _ ,” he ordered. To the Marris Stead, to hunt whatever Scourged monstrosities they came across until they grew old and weary. 

The hounds appeared to understand as much. Blight-Howl released a broken whimper as Nathanos let go of them. The two beasts stood for a moment, unsure, pacing before Nathanos warily.

“Go!” he shouted.

Plaguefang shook her fur, turned around, and raced off into the treeline. Blight-Howl shot Nathanos one last pleading look before following suit.

Nathanos sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Perhaps if all went according to his plans, he would see his two pets again some day. He hoped he wouldn’t regret all of this. Throwing so much of himself away in the hope that the Alliance wouldn’t kill him on sight. That they would be able to stop her.

He ordered the others to stay and await his signal as he infiltrated the city alone. He’d gone over the paths the Horde would use to enter Stormwind a thousand times. He had no trouble finding his way. It was the dead of night, only guards wandered the streets, and they were simple enough to avoid in the dark. While in stealth, he scaled the walls of the keep. It took him a fair bit of running about to figure out which exterior balcony belonged to the king. Nathanos simply found the largest, most ornate one on the higher floors and hoped he was right. 

That was how Nathanos crashed into the king’s private chambers as the boy was sitting at his desk reading some document. In all honesty he expected him to have been sleeping given the hour. He noted how his majesty’s bed sheets were strung about along the floor in a chaotic pile. Anduin looked up, and saw that the Warchief’s Champion was in the middle of his bedroom. Then he stood, putting away what he was working on. He silently walked to a nearby cabinet and produced a bottle of alcohol, which he took a long swig from. Nathanos was wholeheartedly surprised that he hadn’t screamed or tried to smite him where he stood.

“So, Blightcaller… I presume you haven’t come here to kill me. This would be a rather strange way of going about it,” Anduin raised one of his eyebrows sky high. “So why in the world are you in my bedroom at this hour?”


	3. Anduin I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathanos joins the Alliance and receives a troubling message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the replies on the last chapters!! Fun fact: This was originally the first bit of this story that I wrote.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nathanos Blightcaller arrived in Stormwind Keep in the middle of night on an otherwise surprisingly uneventful day. 

Anduin had been looking over a parchment in his chambers after just waking from another one of his nightmares. Then the man revealed himself with a loud clanging sound as he gracelessly flopped over the railing of his balcony. Nathanos briefly explained his situation, how his allegiances towards Sylvanas has been wavering ever since the failed gathering intended to allow the Forsaken who wished it to return to their families. Teldrassil’s burning, and the total destruction of Lordareon had only done well in forcing his hand. Nathanos went behind the Warchief’s back, gathered the Forsaken he could, and fled to the Alliance in hope of amnesty. If not for him, then for the undead caught without a home, and as they thought, without a leader that cared to protect them anymore. 

Anduin could not turn them away, especially knowing that doing so would surely lead them all to their dooms. Sylvanas did not take betrayal lightly, there would be no safety found for them within the Horde. As Nathanos was so kind to point out, Anduin had been the only leader to show any sort of sympathies for the Forsaken. 

Nathanos then kneeled, his head bowed in subservience as he swore his new loyalty. It left Anduin feeling uncomfortably exposed. He found no satisfaction in his former enemy’s hopeless desperation. It was clear he only did such a thing out of finding no other option. For the safety of his people.

Anduin ushered him to stand, accepted his wish, and welcomed Nathanos back to the Alliance with a smile on his face.

_“Welcome home, Nathanos Blightcaller, hero of the Alliance.”_

Later that night, Anduin asked to see the Forsaken Nathanos had brought with him. Nathanos pulled a flare from his quiver and fired it from the balcony to signal for them to come. Anduin alerted his guards to avoid a certain catastrophe before inviting the two dozen or so undead into the keep. They could not manage to escape with many more, for it would have likely roused too much suspicion, they explained. Nathanos had only just evaded drawing the dark rangers onto their trail. A woman, Lilian Voss, led them in Nathanos’ absence while he spoke with Anduin. Her glowing blue eyes were filled with a defiant fire. 

Anduin welcomed the small group as he had welcomed Nathanos, swearing that while he was High King he would protect the Forsaken who wished to—or were driven to—live in the Alliance. Hoping that perhaps in the future perceptions would change, and Anduin’s presence wouldn’t be required in order to ensure their safety. He then offered transport for any of those who had remaining family who wished to return to them, or to return to their former homes if they still remained vacant. The undead would be permitted to live within Stormwind Keep for the time being while accommodations were made. 

Lilian and Nathanos were outliers, they weren’t civilians like many of those seeking refuge. Anduin met with Shaw and discussed the matter at great length with him, eventually reaching the conclusion that Lilian would be transitioning to working as a member of SI:7. She wouldn’t truly serve the crown but rather assist in whatever ventures would benefit the undead. Anduin had learned of her deep affection for her people, how she intended to comfort them through the painful experience of undeath. Lilian had been one of the loudest voices who convinced Nathanos to commit his treason in the first place. Anduin was thankful for her earnest heart, there were few who cared much at all of the Forsaken. A caring hand was sorely needed in such a traumatic time.

They would make good use of her after Shaw had gotten what beneficial information of the Horde’s war plans he could out of the two undead.

Which left Anduin with Nathanos, the unlikely leader of the Alliance’s Forsaken. The first few weeks after his arrival he preoccupied himself by overseeing the handlings of his people. Offering advice where it was needed, and educating on the vagaries of undeath that allowed Anduin to care for them better. There had been some friction coming from other leaders’ reluctance to accept the refugees, particularly from Tyrande who looked upon Nathanos with such distaste that it left Anduin feeling queasy. Surprisingly, Genn had warmed up to the idea, albeit with some hesitance. He respected Anduin’s decision, and remarked on how greatly it benefited them to now possess one of Sylvanas’ formerly closest allies. 

A few days later, Nathanos had given a name to the undead who followed him, _The Everlasting_. Apparently the group had come up with it themselves, wishing to separate themselves as much as they could from Sylvanas’ reach. It was official, then, a hope for a better future. Perceptions could be changed, a new title was only the beginning.

As word spread across the regions, more and more Forsaken arrived in Stormwind, typically with an SI:7 agent in tow. Like a faucet, they leaked from the Horde once Nathanos’ public image had become slightly less spiteful. Their numbers grew, and Anduin argued with the House of Nobles until he gained the approval to build them their own district in Stormwind. 

Of course, the disloyalty brewing among the Horde ranks was becoming a cause for concern for Sylvanas. She couldn’t afford to allow it to go unchecked or unanswered. Especially when word of Nathanos’ new station reached Orgrimmar. 

It was too soon to say that the undead were truly getting adjusted to their new home. Almost a month after their arrival, it was still painfully clear how scared they were. Anduin did all he could to address their concerns and smooth over relations, but there was only so much he was capable of. Much of the power lied in Nathanos’ hands, his outward confidence generally reassured them that they were welcome. In truth, Anduin knew what Nathanos projected was an act for their benefit. 

He saw the mask shatter more than once. Anduin knew that being vulnerable with others was clearly not something Nathanos enjoyed. It took a lot of stubborness on Anduin’s part to withstand how much Nathanos tried to push him away. They were like two bulls butting heads at times, but Anduin tended to win in the end. Most people couldn’t help but cave in to his unrelenting kindness and empathy.

The first time Anduin saw a piece of Nathanos’ shell chip away was when they received Sylvanas’ response to his betrayal.

Overall, the day had been draining. He spent most of his morning arguing with the House of Nobles as usual. Surprisingly the topic of debate hadn’t been the undead in this particular occasion, though it usually was. Anduin sat in his throne before them with a potent mixture of boredom and annoyance coursing through his veins.

Just when one older gentleman opened his mouth to start down a tirade Nathanos briskly interrupted the meeting with Shaw in tow. They both bore dour expressions on their faces. Anduin took it as a welcome intervention and sent away the nobles, concluding their business for the day. There were complaints and grumbles of protest, but the presence of the spymaster and the ranger scared them out of anything substantial. 

“A word, your majesty?” Shaw requested with a hushed tone.

“What do you need?” Anduin knew that something grave must have transpired to draw these two particular men to ask for his ear. 

“Several days ago one of our spies in Orgrimmar stopped reporting in. Today her body was found, along with those of several undead. I have reason to believe she was in the process of bringing them here when she was compromised,” Shaw said.

Beside him Nathanos retrieved what appeared to be a letter from beneath his coat. “This note was next to their corpses, pinned into our spy’s chest by a dark ranger’s arrow.”

Anduin frowned. “Light, guide them. Have you examined the contents?”

“That is where the problems arise. We have yet to read the letter. After inspecting the paper we discovered that it was coated with a toxic powder. I will spare you the details, just know that handling it is incredibly dangerous,” Shaw said darkly.

“And… Nathanos is holding it?” Anduin blinked in confusion.

“It may not exactly be common knowledge, but my people are immune to most poisons. This particular substance included. I believe that it was delivered with that in mind, even,” Nathanos rumbed.

Anduin thought over the information for a time. Found with dead Forsaken, given with an arrow from a dark ranger, and dangerous for humans to open. “You suggest that this was… sent in a way intended to force you to be the one to open it? I fear whatever is written inside will not be pleasant.”

“That is indeed likely,” Shaw replied. 

“Would you have me open it now, your majesty?” Nathanos asked.

“Only if you are certain about this,” Anduin said gently. He didn’t want to pressure the man into performing any action he might end up regretting.

Nathanos inclined his head subtly, releasing a low huff. Without any theatrics or further hesitation, he unfolded the letter. There was only a single line of text, with no sender attached, but judging from the message Anduin could easily guess who it was from.

_This is the price of your betrayal, Nathan._

His grip on the paper was tight, knuckles paling from the tension held beneath them. Despite this, Nathanos’ face was frozen in calculated neutrality. 

  
“So she has finally thrown down her gauntlet,” he hissed.

Though her words were few, her statement was deafeningly clear. She would declare all of those fleeing to the Alliance as traitors, and that anyone found doing so would be killed on sight. Nathanos had been intended to receive that missive personally, a final confirmation that he would meet his end if he ever dared to return to his former Queen. Anduin knew how the news must have tore him apart inside. 

He did his best to comfort Nathanos without striking any raw nerves, which led to the man reprimanding him for coddling, though he could not conceal the upward twitch of his lips as he did so.

But after that?

Nathanos was lost. Like a deerling, he struggled to find his bearings in a world that was entirely and unavoidably new to him. He sought aid in a vipers nest of enemies that would do anything to strike at him, to remind him that he was undeserving of this mercy and that he was unwanted among the Alliance. To live with those who despised him on principle, who _hunted him and his people_ , as he had noted before in privacy, had clearly cut him deeply. Wyrmbane had had to rotate out several guards to different positions who had been caught making cruel remarks towards the Everlasting. Shaw placed a handful of agents on the task of protecting their new allies from any vengeance others may try to enact. The House of Nobles did not hide their distaste for Nathanos. At first they had not even regarded him as a person capable of sentience whenever he was present during a meeting with them.

Anduin’s heart ached with sympathy for the man, surrounded by so much hate. It was no wonder he had taken to fixing himself to Anduin’s side as a permanent attachment. After all, he had sworn an oath that he would defend House Wrynn until his true end. Dissenters tended to silent their complaints in Anduin’s presence, lest they wish to invoke the king’s calm fury. Nathanos was safest within arms reach, so that was where he remained. It was as if he was a bodyguard of sorts, but with far greater political presence and a bold tongue. He took no qualms in speaking his mind quite openly, much to the ills of everyone around him. To Anduin, it was somewhat amusing. He could see the conflicted soul behind his bluster and know that he was hurting. He had been cast out far beyond his comfort zone and was clinging to any source of normalcy he could find. 

Nathanos did not know how to give halves of himself. He threw his entirety into what he believed in, even if he knew he would get burned. His first pledge of loyalty had not been his last. Countless times he had fallen to his knees or bowed his head and sworn his unlife to Anduin. Nathanos fulfilled any request that was asked of him with an intense devotion. The feverish need to be useful, to please the young king in all he did, had been concerning. It was likely an after effect of his time serving Sylvanas. 

Anduin had feared that he had become a replacement for her in Nathanos’ eyes. 

Outside of worrying after his people, and following Anduin like an angry shadow, Nathanos had few friends. Even fewer hobbies. Sure, he liked to shoot arrows at people, harass the new recruits, and tend to the royal hounds when he thought no one was looking, but the only true pursuit that he still had was doing Anduin’s will. It was unhealthy, to say the least. 


	4. Nathanos II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathanos has a good day, then Nathanos has a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also known as “I beat up Nathanos while Valeera claps.”
> 
> Enjoy this longer chapter that used to be two, but felt better when tied together like this.

After over a decade away from the Alliance, Nathanos had almost forgotten how pompous it all was. The Horde was chaotic at times, yes. There was a significant lack of guidelines for many things. Most procedures were decided through the vagueness of tradition and personal experience. It was the trade off for the fulfillment of their principles. A semblance of freedom for each people to practice their own cultural beliefs without having to adhere to any systems. The Horde was strong, but different, there was no singular stereotype because someone could be  _ anyone _ . 

It was not the same in the Alliance. 

Nathanos glowered at the blood elf, Valeera Sanguinar, his new ‘ _ coworker’ _ . Seeing as the king had so graciously interpreted his profession of loyalty as a wonderful basis for him to become a personal bodyguard, he would be seeing her often. They had somewhat different roles, Valeera a spy and Nathanos a ranger. While she was capable of blending in among the Horde and traveling between both factions freely, Nathanos could barely be tolerated in one. And ‘ _ tolerated’ _ was really pushing it. Valeera relied on anonymity whereas Nathanos was a survivalist, he excelled outside in nature, and was one of the best trackers on Azeroth. 

So while they both personally served the king, their tasks would take them into very different worlds. 

Early in the morning Nathanos had reported to Anduin for his assignment for the day. The boy tended to wake at the first light of dawn. Nathanos assumed that had something to do with his religious inclination, rather than having any particular interest in being active before seven in the morning. The only people who should be suffering through such a thing were farmers, those who had infants, and the undead. Everyone else was an irrational masochist. 

Rather than order him to do anything in particular, Anduin struck up a pleasantly dull conversation about meaningless things like tea and the season. He then attempted to serve Nathanos breakfast, and was clearly mildly disappointed when the undead only ate the mini sausages provided and left everything else untouched. He technically didn’t require nutrition, but he found that this newer body took to starvation poorly. At times he would be pressed to indulge, or else face the risk of his instincts making him eat whatever was the closest edible target. 

Consuming food was nostalgic, and it aided in restorative ways, but most substances were flavorless to the undead. What they ate had to be prepared with that in mind in order for it to have any pleasure attached to it. Otherwise it was more of a bothersome chore than anything else.

The only outlier to the rule was meat. Animal or humanoid, raw or cooked, it was clear that meat was what their bodies truly craved. The flesh of humans was extremely taboo, but scratched an itch most didn’t even know they had until they tried it. Nathanos had consumed it on several occasions but not exactly often enough to consider it a habitual thing. They did taste the best of the bipedal beasts he’d tried, but that was something best kept to himself.

After the meal Anduin then informed him that most of Nathanos’ day would be spent with Valeera. They were set on preparing him for his new station. Such a thing was expected, of course.

Ah, but this was the Alliance.

Their standard was far different than the one Nathanos had grown accustomed to. In the past, all he had to do was show his merits and the rest fell into place. He couldn’t get away with that anymore. Anduin wanted him to act, dress, and know everything an official member would. Apparently Valeera was the one chosen for the monumental task. He almost pitied her, he doubted she wanted to be there any more than he did.

“Before we get into anything, I need to outline some things for you. We have a zero-fail mission, Blightcaller, we don’t get to have a bad day. If we fuck this up, we’re fucking up the entirety of Azeroth,” Valeera warned darkly.

Nathanos nodded, “I understand.”

Valeera seemed satisfied by his response. She looked him over with a hint of sympathy in her expression. Her seriousness falling away to a more casual amiability. “You should be proud, you know? You’ve only gotten to this point because you have Anduin’s complete trust and confidence. He isn’t about just to let anyone be his shadow.”

It felt like a foolish decision on his part, allowing one of his former enemies to fill such an essential position. Even after all of the evaluation he’d been put through since his arrival, it was a great risk for Anduin to entrust his life in his hands. It was also easier for Nathanos to mock him for it, than admit it made him feel… something. Not quite honored, but perhaps appreciated. 

“I’m grateful for his majesty’s faith, truly. I would likely be dead without it,” Nathanos said humbly. 

“He’s a great guy. I hope you’ll get to know him more eventually, so this isn’t all work for you. That’s enough of that for now, though. Back to business,” Valeera teased. She vaguely gestured to Nathanos’ general physique. “We would usually do a physical evaluation, but you’re a fancy walking corpse. I don’t think you’ll pass.”

“I can reassure you I’m in one of the best shapes for my kind. I am fully capable of fulfilling the duties that would be asked of me.”

Valeera agreed, “I know you would. It’s more a formality to reassure the rest of our allies that you’re fit to serve. Speaking of that… Anduin needs you in less frumpy clothing, can’t have his arm candy looking so gloomy. C’mon, Sunshine.” She rapped his shoulder and began walking on ahead again. Turning to shoot him a glare when she noticed he wasn’t moving.

“His majesty used those words?” Nathanos monotoned, unimpressed.

“No, I did. Let’s go,” Valeera said as she forcibly pushed him forward. 

And so, he had been dragged to the  _ Canal Tailor and Fit Shop _ by Valeera to fulfill that end. 

Their arrival in the shop was met with the expected amount of fanfair. At this point in his stay, it was common knowledge that Nathanos worked for the crown. Typically his appearance was met with some amount of disgust and scorn. However, Lisbeth and Rema did not scowl or hurl insults as the two bodyguards entered their shop. It was actually quite the opposite reaction. They straightened their backs, and sprung to greet them with wide grins on their faces. They appeared to be genuinely honored to serve them. It was… interesting.

They ran through instructions with Nathanos and led him about like a confused farm animal. Lisbeth was about to place him before a mirror when Nathanos openly rejected the idea, suggesting that the tailors knew best, and that he trusted whatever they had in mind. 

Which wasn’t true, but he doubted any other excuse would appease them the same way. They would follow any order he gave because of his superiority, and their hero worship. But it didn’t erase the awkwardness that would surely come from admitting that he detested seeing his own reflection.

Rema guided him to a small platform that they would use to get a better look at him. He was asked to remove most of his clothing so they could accurately measure his size. Nathanos stood and kept his eyes on the elf in front of him rather than allow his gaze to drift to any of the mirrors in the store. Valeera was in the corner with her arms crossed, conscious not to get in the way of the fretting ladies with measuring tape. Perhaps fearful that any misstep would sic the pests after her instead. 

Lisbeth was taking Nathanos’ measurements, while Rema scurried back and forth holding up about a thousand different swatches of fabric. She mumbled senseless things about which colors brought out his cool undertones. Nathanos found that particularly ridiculous, considering his skin was properly green. Apparently the tint conflicted with Stormwind’s typical gold, much to the distress of the tailors. 

“Why is it that I’m subjected to this torture while you get to dress like that?” Nathanos gestured in Valeera’s general direction.

“I’m not part of the Alliance, not my rules,” she smirked with a shrug. “Maybe earn a spot in Anduin’s little extended family, and he’ll let you be your old emo self again.”

“You dress yourself like a jester.”

“A  _ sexy _ jester. Thought you had a thing for blondes, Blightcaller?”

The tailors giggled, Nathanos pretended not to notice the way their eyes wandered over his bare torso. At least that breed of admiration was better than being treated like a rabid animal. 

“Did my relationship with  _ one  _ person somehow earn me an entire reputation without my knowledge?”

He would admit that on the surface Valeera was an attractive woman, confident and daring. Her arms and thighs were strong with notable musculature to them. Her face was sharp with high cheekbones and full lips. From an outside standpoint the elf was every bit some teenage human’s wild fantasy. It wasn’t quite correct to say that undeath had robbed him of his capability to understand aesthetic appreciation or beautiful women. But being surrounded by elves for many years had gotten rid of any outstanding fantasies one would have. Besides, Nathanos had already picked up on the implications that Valeera did not have any taste for men in the slightest. 

“You’ve only been attracted to one person your entire life? Seriously?”

“That isn’t what I said,” Nathanos grumbled. There were many, many others. While his taste in women was apparently disastrous, he tended to find any confident man in a position of authority somewhat alluring. Someone like Greymane, Shaw, or even the king if given the chance. “My history is not one I care to discuss with you.”

“Fine, keep the stick up your ass. I’ll just make my own assumptions,” Valeera said wryly.

After some time, the tailors resigned themselves to the fact that Nathanos would be outfitted mainly in blues, purples, and greys. Valeera shot off a list of garments to have made, and instructions to deliver the order to the keep when finished.

“Well… we should have this all done within two weeks,” Lisbeth replied, mildy dazed. 

Nathanos had zoned out after Valeera requested ten completely different formal outfits. If the king wanted to spend a small fortune on providing him an entirely new wardrobe, who was he to complain?

Oh, but he complained very much because all of  _ this  _ was such a waste of time. He only needed one set of clothing. Nathanos had been wearing the same armor for over four years without issue. Everything else was pretentious showmanship. He wasn’t some doll for Anduin to play with and show off to his friends. 

And yet, it seemed that was what Nathanos had signed himself away for. 

He and Valeera returned to the keep quickly after visiting the tailor shop. After briefly reporting back in she led Nathanos outside into the training area.

“This is an abbreviation of SI:7 methods, you won’t be getting anything from me involving marksmanship because I’m not a moron,” Valeera said. She dropped her daggers to the ground, and instead flexed her fingers beneath her red leather gloves. “Let’s go over some takedown scenarios.”

“You think I don’t know how to kill someone with my bare hands?” Nathanos scoffed. It was actually quite easy to do so. The undead had claws and fangs built for the very purpose of ripping and tearing flesh.

“Now that's the reason we’re doing this, Sunshine. Anduin likes to take people in alive. If someone comes after him, you need to incapacitate them without any fatalities involved. Let’s begin.”

Nathanos proceeded to make an utter fool of himself by getting knocked out by Valeera over and over again. Every time he thought he was gaining the upper hand she surprised him. His back was beginning to ache from how many times she slammed him onto the ground. He had to admit, he was somewhat rusty at this breed of combat. The damn rogue fought dirty, typical. 

By the time Nathanos managed to pin Valeera without her being able to escape, she was soaked in sweat and breathing hard. Meanwhile he was in the exact same state he began in. He was sitting with his weight on her shoulder and neck. Both of her arms were pulled tightly backwards and held flat against Nathanos’ chest to prevent her from moving. She wrenched her head to the side, eyeing him with her blazing green stare. Her cheek was digging into the dirt, and hair spilling out in golden rays over the grass.

“Well done. It’s been some time since someone beat me,” Valeera exhaled, her voice strained. No doubt from the fact that he was practically sitting on her throat.

Nathanos took that as his sign to remove himself from her. He stood, allowing Valeera to roll over and clean off her face and armor. She sat there still, panting and tugging at her low neckline to air off her skin beneath her clothes, clearly exhausted. Nathanos pointedly did not look out of politeness, not that he cared for such a thing regardless. 

“You’re a challenging opponent,” Nathanos admitted begrudgingly. He offered a hand to help Valeera stand, and she took it graciously. After she kicked his ass, he had to respect her at least marginally. 

“You need more practice. I’m not going to say you can’t fit this job or anything, Blightcaller. It’s just good to know what you need to work on improving.”

“That is… true.”

“After a short break we can head to the royal stables, and go over some horse riding related scenarios as w—“

“I must interrupt. Unless you possess any skeletal horses, the chances of me being able to ride any in your stables are quite low. They despise the undead,” Nathanos muttered.

“Well, that’s a problem. Not mine to deal with, though. Guess I’ll tell Shaw about it later, and he can figure something out,” Valeera shrugged flippantly. “We’re going back inside the keep, then. I’ll be able to cool down while I walk you through evacuation and hostage procedures and how to handle them. Sound fun?”

“Not at all.” 

“Great! We even get the pleasure of having his majesty join us. Isn’t that exciting? You get to save Anduin from being kidnapped by yours truly,” she winked. “After doing a bit of king-napping yourself.”

Nathanos eyed her skeptically. “Yes, how utterly thrilling.”

Valeera picked up her daggers and replaced them back into their sheaths. She took another minute or so to straighten out her hair and such so she didn’t look like a disaster. Once she was satisfied, she waved for Nathanos to follow her.

The two of them went off searching for the king in order to kidnap him, as Valeera said. They found him in the library. He was calmly reading a book sitting all stretched out and liquid-like, not so dissimilar to a content feline. Valeera whispered a few orders to him in Thalassian too low for the boy to hear. Nathanos silently approached him from behind while in stealth. He wrapped a hand around Anduin’s mouth to keep him from causing a commotion. Then Nathanos used his other hand to lift him up and out of the library entirely. Flinging him over one shoulder, at Valeera’s suggestion. 

“This is an excellent abduction,” Anduin said conversationally as Nathanos’ hand was mere inches away from his ass. “Why is this happening?”

“Training,” Valeera said. She didn’t budge on any more enlightening details.

“Nathanos,” Anduin scolded. He sounded extremely disappointed in their shenanigans. It almost made him feel guilty. “I hope you have a good reason for parading me around my keep looking like some conquest.”

Valeera shot Nathanos a warning glare. He pantomimed the motion of zipping his lips. She made a few hand gestures that he recognized as a code of sorts. Nodding, he set off into the direction she ordered him to go.

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake setting you two up together,” Anduin groaned. Unaware of the silent conversation that passed between them due to his vantage point mainly being Nathanos’ backside.

“Sunshine is perfectly behaved,” Valeera said defensively. “He’s only threatened me twice. I think that’s progress.”

“Is that…? Are you referring to Nathanos as  _ sunshine _ ?!” Anduin wheezed. Nathanos could feel his body trembling from the strain of his laughter.

“Isn’t it perfect? He’s truly a beam of light. Haven’t you seen his smile? He’s got like, so many teeth. So many of them.”

“I think I’ll take your word for it, Val?” Anduin snickered.

Nathanos tightened his grip on Anduin’s upper thigh, and none too gently readjusted the boy’s weight with a shrug of his shoulder. “This hostage talks too much. He better behave before I eat his throat out.”

Anduin shuddered. Nathanos could hear his pulse quickening, racing like a greyhound against him. 

The rest of the walk to the throne room was blissfully silent. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The sun had barely broken over the horizon when the recruits came out to practice. Many of them intended to improve their swordplay or run exercises to keep up their physical shape. While Stormwind trained their troops in archery, their skill was nothing in comparison to the sin’dorei rangers of the Horde. They were in sore need of some experienced instruction. 

Every few days Nathanos would go to the training grounds and wait for their arrival. He still wasn’t technically in active duty due to the Alliance’s intense vetting process, so he had plenty of freedom away from Anduin. When he wasn’t getting knocked out by Valeera in hand to hand combat, or terrifying the horses in the royal stables with Shaw, he spent some of his time here. The fearful expressions of the young soldiers when they saw him amused him greatly. He hadn’t put in much effort to remember their names, given how many of them there were, and how little he cared for them. It was likely few would survive the first real battle they were sent off to. He could recall a common boy with dark hair, who mentioned coming from some farmlands. A group of three women that appeared to be siblings. A half elf that was neither a man, nor a woman, who had a tendency to stab at anything that moved. 

Nathanos watched one of the recruits miss their target by what appeared to be a mile. She was short with dark skin and a mane of curly hair. It was clear she didn’t have any skill for a bow just from looking at her stance. It was all wrong, amature, entirely unsuited for battle. Nathanos hoped her talents lied elsewhere, for her future would be short if they did not.

“The goal is to improve, not to win,” he growled at her. His interruption practically sent her leaping out of her own skin. It seemed that she hadn’t even noticed his approach until he spoke. “Focus on growth, rather than jumping ahead to shooting at your friends.”

“Yes, Blightcaller sir,” she squeaked. She then proceeded to miss her shot again, less terribly this time.

“Better,” he commended gruffly. 

He watched her form as she continued. Firing arrow after arrow. He was beginning to notice one of the issues that was likely causing her the most trouble. 

“You’re tensing up right before you fire, worried about dropping your bow. Pressure on the grip is throwing off your arrow flight. Here,” Nathanos came to stand close beside her. “Allow yourself to relax, knowing I will be here to catch it.”

She nodded, doing as he instructed. Instead of subconsciously grabbing the handle she let it fall from her hands. Nathanos caught her bow without a glance, instead watching as her shot landed much closer to her target.

“Not good, but you might not be entirely hopeless after all,” Nathanos appraised. He handed the girl back her bow gently. She let out an audible sigh of relief, likely expecting him to bite her head off or something equally ridiculous.

They continued practicing the same motion for several more shots, until a few of them were even hitting their mark. The first arrow that stuck clean into the target made the girl shout in excitement. Nathanos almost,  _ almost _ felt a sense of pride.

Several days later while free of any duties Nathanos once again returned to monitor the recruits’ training. This particular morning was dedicated to swordplay with real blades. Nathanos hoped Stormwind’s healers were prepared for the influx of patients they were likely to receive from such an event. 

He watched as the half elf almost gutted their sparring partner. Nathanos was mildly disappointed the attack hadn’t connected. Their instructor scolded them for the move, and ordered them to run laps around the training ground as punishment. If Nathanos was the one in charge he would have scolded them for missing, not for doing it in the first place. 

Perhaps that was why he wasn’t in charge.

Now with odd numbers, one of the recruits was left without a partner. The instructors redid the matchups and begrudgingly set up a young man that was one of the best in their lot to spar against Nathanos. Only allowing so because of Nathanos’ promise that he would go incredibly easy on him.

He was somewhat on the larger side, still nowhere near as tall as Nathanos, but he towered above most of the other young soldiers. He had pale shaved hair and dark brown eyes. There was an ugly looking scar practically bisecting his face in half vertically.

The focus on this session was on deflecting attacks. They were to perform the moves they were just taught against one another in turns. It was all very by the book motions, nothing like real combat.

The blade in Nathanos’ hand was somewhat uneven and awkward. A standard mass produced sword not suitable enough for real battle, but good enough to get the young soldiers to cut each other up with. It would serve its purpose, but it was nothing like one of his hatchets. 

They squared up against one another, Nathanos would be on the attack first since he wasn’t the one needing any training. He struck quickly, giving his opponent only the barest of windows to block. After only a few blows the boy’s arms were shaking with exertion. He had almost fallen backwards from the force of Nathanos’ last one.

_ ‘Going easy _ ’ to Nathanos only meant that he wasn’t intending to kill the boy.

“Watch your balance,” Nathanos reprimanded him.

The recruit said nothing, he merely shook away the sweat beading on his face, and jumped back into the exercise. 

When it was his turn on the attack, his entire demeanor changed. There was a war going on within his head. “My brother was killed at Lordaeron, I joined up because of him. He died to the plague,” the boy said darkly.

“The losses were great on both sides, it was a waste.” Nathanos frowned as he blocked his next strike, sensing where the recruit’s words were headed. He wasn’t proud of what happened that day. One of his many regrets.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Nathanos said flatly. There was no point in denying it.

“You killed my brother, and you dare to show your face here? Do you think the king's forgiveness changes anything?” The boy’s scarred face was twisted with anger, his grip on his blade tightening until his knuckles turned white. 

Nathanos stared at him blankly. They were words he had heard countless times since he’d arrived in Stormwind. “No, I don’t.”

It seemed that Nathanos’ indifference only served to fuel his fury. He attacked again, harder this time. Nathanos was almost surprised by the weight of the blow. Metal scraped off of metal. “You don’t belong here,” he hissed. “You’re a monster!”

“Focus on the task at hand, your quarrel with me can wait!” Nathanos scolded.

“I can handle doing both at once just fine!” the boy yelled. As the words left his tongue, he slashed upwards in a way Nathanos had not predicted. His blade pierced through Nathanos’ light leathers, the clothing that Anduin had custom made for him. He hadn’t dressed himself expecting to run into any challenges that day. It was a mistake on his part.

A large expanse of flesh had been sliced open on his torso. His darkened blood soaked into the purple fabric of his clothing, staining it black. Nathanos growled in distaste, quickly disarming the boy with one hand, and applying pressure to the large wound with his other one. The sword he had been holding fell to the ground with a noisy clatter. 

“Blaise!” an instructor ran over to the two of them. Her expression pinched in annoyance. She stepped between them, looking to Nathanos for an explanation. “What the fuck did you do to set him off like this, Blightcaller?!”

“What haven’t I done?” Nathanos muttered. Rather than stay a minute longer and put up with more insults he stalked away. Carelessly tossing his own practice sword to the ground, he left. He ignored all sounds of protests, and orders to head to a healer coming from the alarmed trainers. 

He didn’t need one. He was perfectly fine. It wasn’t as if they cared for his well being anyway. 

Paying no mind to the perplexed guards he stormed past outside in the streets of Stormwind, he made his way to the keep. His blood splattering in a trail along the pale stone floors. Growling obscenities in Gutterspeak, he ran through the entrance, climbed up the stairs and found himself in his private bedroom. 

As soon as he closed the door behind him he began tearing away the clothing from his torso. Hissing as his fingers caught the raised skin of his injury in his haste. On his way to the basin of water, he came across a mirror, and froze in place before it. 

Nathanos never kept mirrors around in his home in Orgrimmar, and the idea of possessing one in the Undercity was almost laughable. The undead were not particularly fond of looking upon the state of their decay. And for those like Nathanos… well, he always turned the mirror in his chambers around. It seemed some of the keep’s serving staff came through and cleaned while he was gone and ‘ _ fixed’ _ it.

It hadn’t always been that way with him. The sight of his crumbling face didn’t phase him much at all. It was only when Sylvanas had performed the ritual—giving Nathanos this new body—had he grown keen on forgetting.

It wasn’t easy looking for yourself, and seeing the one you betrayed. Stephon… 

Nathanos had known him most when he was little, the entire Marris family stuck within those walls. Stephon was always an insufferably cheerful boy, dreaming of the loftiest of goals and higher. He saw Nathanos as his hero, longing to grow up and achieve as much as him. The Marris family was all especially proud of their Nathan, having earned the attention of the high elven Ranger-General. Eventually becoming a hero of the Second War in his own right. Now those memories were laced in bitterness.

His parents had always pestered him, asking him when he and Sylvanas would wed and be having children. Stephon typically asked him what he would name any potential future half elven babies, and then Nathanos would chase him away with threats of taking his dessert later that evening. The idea of ever doing such a thing with her now made him want to puke. 

Discovering that Stephon had actually achieved his childhood fantasies of becoming a paladin cut him deeper than any vengeful recruit could. He joined the Argent Crusade, searching for Nathanos, hoping that somehow at least the brave Alliance hero of the family survived.

Nathanos stood before his reflection, bare chested and bleeding. Feeling the most emotion he had in years. If he weren’t entirely dead inside he would have likely been crying. Pathetic. 

His bloody fingers roamed around the irritated flesh of the wound. Each touch stinged, drawing more sounds of pain from his lips. 

“What am I doing here,  _ Stephon _ ?”

The mirror provided no answers.

“I hoped to change something, perhaps do some good for once in my fucking life. Here I am, stuck here for over a month. I’ve done nothing but put those who trust me in danger. She will hunt us all, now. Because of me… because I believed… ”

Nathanos reached out to the pane before him, smearing his own blood across the surface. Searching for any piece of him that remained in his reflection. What was left that the Scourge and Sylvanas hadn’t taken from him?

“What would they ask of me…? How much must I sacrifice until I’m accepted here?”

He leaned his forehead against the mirror, closing his eyes with a sigh. When had he ever cared about such a thing in the past? Acceptance? 

“Nathanos?!”

When he opened them again, he found Anduin’s worried face in the bloodied reflection. Nathanos turned around to face him, a growl dying on his tongue as he remembered who he was in the presence of.

“Your majesty… I—“

“Nathanos, you’re hurt!” Anduin cried, rushing to him. “I saw the blood all over the floor leading to your room. I thought—I thought something terrible happened.”

“You needn’t worry about such a thing, my king. This is nothing,” Nathanos grunted. He grimaced in pain as Anduin reached out to investigate his injury.

“Of course I’m worried. You’re my friend,” Anduin said gently. He didn’t seem to mind getting his fancy clothing coated in clotted undead blood. 

Nathanos blinked, somewhat dazed by the statement. “Your friend?”

“Is that so odd?” Anduin gave a weak laugh. His blue eyes were searching Nathanos’ face inquisitively.

No accusations, no anger over the mess he had certainly caused by tracking vital fluids all over Stormwind. Anduin had come to him purely because he was  _ afraid _ of the possibility of Nathanos being injured. He actually cared, even referring to him as his friend rather than his would be bodyguard. 

“Yes,” Nathanos muttered.

Anduin ceased his poking at the slice on his chest to really  _ look  _ at Nathanos. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders squared. “Nathanos, please. Listen to me. No matter what anybody else may say, you are wanted here.”

He was momentarily caught off guard by the sheer strength and determination the king delivered his statement. Somehow, he knew exactly what Nathanos needed to hear. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Anduin smiled warmly, seemingly satisfied by Nathanos’ reaction. He brought his attention back to Nathanos’ chest, walking to the water basin and procuring a wet cloth. “Now, let me see about fixing this wound. Do you have a needle?”

  
  



	5. Anduin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anduin hosts a royal hunt, Nathanos does all the work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun little chapter that had me researching way too much information about boar hunting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  
  


Hunting boar was a well practiced tradition among the noble and royal families of the human kingdoms. The animal was notoriously dangerous, so those who could successfully rout them were regarded with respect. It was almost a right of passage of sorts, a coming of age ceremony for noble sons and daughters. Historically it was used to train warriors in martial skills and team coordination. Now it was more of a sport than anything. 

Given Nathanos’ skills and interests Anduin invited him along. He hoped the occasion would at least be somewhat relaxing, if not enjoyable. The man had been particularly moody as of late ever since his mysterious training injury. He deserved a break from the frustrations of politics and war. Acclimating to his new surroundings was clearly taking a toll on him mentally. Anduin did his best to reach out an olive branch, and remind Nathanos that he had someone supporting him. He had been pleased with the growing friendship between the man and Valeera, as odd as it was. Genn’s continued tolerance was not only a pleasant surprise, but an incredible relief. Perhaps leading their hunting party would help all those involved understand the merits he had. Though he hoped their flamboyant wealthy guests wouldn’t bother him much. While many families sent their children off to be respectable heroes, most stayed home and grew lazy and rakish. They wouldn’t be able to sort Nathanos’ insults from his jokes. 

The day of the event was one filled with countless festivities and ceremonies. Before dawn broke a dozen or so noble families gathered in Stormwind keep for a sizeable breakfast. It was prepared by the best chefs in the Alliance. Bountiful bowls of freshly peeled and cut fruit, milk from local dairy farms, fried eggs and ham slices, granary toast loaded with creamy butter. There were also plates of wonderful pastries, biscuits, sticky buns, lemon-ginger scones, crêpes with raspberry-apricot sauce, and six different varieties of muffin. Nathanos did not eat like the rest of the guests, instead he was served a thick chop of raw veal. The meat freshly slaughtered from the keep’s livestock, and spiced with flavors more palatable for the weakened senses of the undead. After speaking to him on his dietary matters, Anduin had made sure to accommodate for him at any meal he would be present. Having Nathanos eat with all the others went a long way in a show of comradery, that he was on equal standing as the rest of them. If anyone was put off by such a thing at the breakfast table, they held their tongue out of respect for Anduin and his allies.

A grand feast would also be held on their return, hopefully using the meat of their quarry as the main course. Wild boar had much leaner meat than that of domestic pigs. Anduin was sure the pork would be divine, since Genn had been attesting to such a thing with certainty. There would also be much drinking and revelry later in the day. Guests were invited for entertainment as well, musicians, animal tamers, and storytellers. 

The party set out into Elwynn forest in a leisurely trot. Anduin rode on Reverence, while Valeera was on a strong mare with a dark brown coat and yellow mane. Genn and Tess were on Gilnean warhorses, thankfully without their armor and warbanners. Nathanos forewent a horse entirely, given that the creatures weren’t fond of the undead, and he preferred tracking prey on foot. It was somewhat odd how they rejected him so adamantly while other animals flocked to him like a beacon. The day before Anduin had watched as all the horses within the royal stables except  _ Champion _ panicked at his presence. 

With his dark ranger abilities he was able to keep up pace with them, if not faster. There was also something to say about how his limbs never succumbed to exhaustion. He could run as long as he pleased and never slow. Because of his role as a bodyguard Nathanos traveled on the right side of Anduin, while Valeera was on his left. The two of them sniped at each other back and forth like petulant school children. Genn rode further back behind Anduin with his daughter but before the squabble of nobles. It brought a smile on the king’s face to see Genn and Nathanos completely at ease while within close proximity of one another.

Anduin had never gone hunting for boar before, even when Varian had taken him. In all honesty he doubted anyone among them had any experience outside of Nathanos and the two Gilneans. The nobles’ chattering reeked of inexperience and overcompensation. A sentiment clearly shared by the man in question. 

“Have any of you fools actually slain a boar?” Nathanos growled, eyeing the foppish nobles gathered behind them warily.

“Of course I have!” retaliated one such noble with suspicious haste. 

Several more chimed in with similar statements of varying levels of earnestness. Anduin could tell they were all lying, even without his sense for it. 

Nathanos shot Anduin a look of exasperation. Valeera laughed at the man’s expense. 

“There weren’t any around Gilneas, but I have hunted… elsewhere,” Genn offered.

“I’m only good at hunting people,” Valeera added cheerfully. “Varian would drag me along with him as some silly form of bonding, but I was shit at it. And he forewent all of these pointless noble rituals. No offense, Anduin.”

He chuckled. “None taken.”

Anduin fondly remembered his own times with his father in the forests of Elwynn. On his first trip, he hadn’t been able to slay the wolf they found once the foxhounds had led them to it. No matter how Varian soothed or reassured him, Anduin refused to bring the knife to its throat. In the end his father did it for him.

“Many of these  _ ‘rituals’ _ do in fact serve a purpose. Greatly exaggerated, perhaps, but it is best to be cautious with such matters,” Nathanos said. “Lest you wish to become pig food.” 

Boars were to be hunted  _ par force _ due to the specific nature of the animal. The beasts were highly ferocious when under attack, easily capable of killing any man, horse, or hound that wasn’t properly careful. Each member of their party was assigned a specific role, which in the end, amounted to Nathanos doing a vast majority of the work while everyone else pretended to be helping. Of course, the killing blow would be handed to Anduin, as he was the king, and today’s particular gathering was in his honor. It was a sort of prestige that he found somewhat embarrassing, but he accepted it nonetheless. 

A small army of foxhounds had been released from the royal kennels to assist them in the venture. They swarmed around Nathanos like a cloud of gnats, walking about and sniffing each other excitedly. It had been some time since the dogs had had their share of fun, they were basking in it joyfully. Nathanos had been speaking to the group of them as if by some delusion they were capable of understanding the intricacies of  _ par force  _ tactics. 

Typically a royal hunt would also consist of several mastiff breeds as catch dogs as well. To hold down the prey and allow it to be slain with ease. In this case, a mastiff was liable to foolishly attack the boar and get itself heavily wounded, or worse. Killing their quarry would be entirely up to their own abilities. 

As they reached the outskirts of Elwynn forest Nathanos hurried on ahead. Before the hunt itself started, an expert huntsman would seek out the quarry along with one of the scent hounds. Such an event could take up hours of time, and usually was to be performed before the day of the actual ceremony. Nathanos laughed at such a notion, and said he wouldn’t leave them waiting for more than a few minutes. Typically the hunter followed tracks, broken terrain, and droppings to locate the general area of the boar as accurately as possible. In the best scenario, he would get a clear vision of it.

Despite the early morning, the weather was cheerful and sunny. The ambiance of the land around them was beautiful. Small chipmunks rummaged through the undergrowth, pawing at their fat cheeks. Birds sung overhead in the branches of vast hardwood trees. Insects of various shapes and sizes buzzed by, hunting for some fruit to extract its juices from. Anduin shared tales of his father with Valeera and Genn as they waited. They all had many fond memories of the man, even Tess who hadn’t known him quite as well. 

Within a few minutes Nathanos was back with the foxhound practically prancing behind him, its head and tail held high. Nathanos squatted down to give the dog a reward in the form of scritches behind its ears. “Roughly three furlongs ahead, past the thicket. It’s alone, robust and well fed. She will serve well enough.”

“A master hunter indeed,” said one voice. 

“Better than Varian,” Valeera noted wryly. “Given that you didn’t have me poke at any deer shit.”

Anduin looked to the elf beside him, unable to keep his laughter from his expression. Likewise, Nathanos appeared like he wished to comment on the former king’s hunting methods. He likely only held his tongue due to Anduin’s presence.

“Orc’s ass, how in blazes did you do that so fast?” asked a noblewoman atop a mustang with a snort.

“Hmph, it was nothing,” Nathanos dismissed her admiration. Despite his aloof attitude Anduin could tell he was preening at the praise, the corner of his lip twitching upward for the barest of seconds. “If any of you possessed a hint of skill it would not come as quite a surprise. Had I been tracking alone, I would have already returned with our prize.”

“Ever the charmer,” Valeera replied sarcastically. He had the feeling she was rolling her eyes, but they were entirely green and on fire so it was difficult to tell. 

“I fear he may have some truth to his words,” Anduin whispered conspiratorially to his friends. Quietly, so as not to allow the nobles nearby to overhear.

“That one looks to be dying of heatstroke,” Tess gossiped. She pointed to a very sweaty noble behind them with her chin.

“Tess, be nice,” Anduin scolded weakly. It didn’t have much of its desired effect when he grinned the whole way through. 

“We shall send the hounds to chase the boar now, yes?” Genn gestured to the dense hardwood treeline ahead of them to the right. Deliberately ignoring the mumbling passing between the rest of their group. “Two relays to catch the beast between them, cornering it.”

Nathanos nodded with a subtle inclination of his head. He whistled, drawing all the foxhounds milling about to jump to attention and swarm to him. “Your majesty?”

“Let the hunt begin,” Anduin commanded. 

With merely a low tone as his order, Nathanos inspired the dogs to race ahead after the scent of their quarry. The hunting party spurred their horses to follow them in a canter, speeding through the fertile woods of Elwynn. Nathanos had no issue keeping up to pace with them here, even without his woodland stride. Despite how death twisted his ranger abilities, his deep connection to nature was noteworthy. It seemed like the forest bent to his every whim.

The foxhounds filled the otherwise idyllic forest with a cacophony of barking. The sounds only grew louder once the deep growl of the boar joined its mix. It was a terrible noise, not unlike the roar of a monster. Anduin could make out the shape of the creature through the foliage and the waves of hounds. This chase would continue for some time until their quarry tired.

Soon the boar was surrounded by horse and hound alike. As the rest of the hunting party caught up, Nathanos ordered the dogs back. Simultaneously stopping them from killing the beast themselves, and to avoid any injury. The boar reared its wide head, attempting to gore the nearest thing with its sharp tusks. Anduin felt a measure of pity for the thing, overwhelmed and terrified. 

He swiftly climbed off of his horse and removed Shalamayne from his hip. He stalked towards the boar hesitantly, stepping through the sea of foxhounds to meet Nathanos. Typically the animal would be slain by a rider with a spear for safety reasons, but Anduin did not fear the creature before him. Not when he had Nathanos by his side. Many would do the same in order to show off their strength and skill. Anduin’s reasoning was not so pretentious. 

“It is time to claim your kill, my king,” Nathanos said with almost a hint of fondness. His eyes were alive with delight, his mouth openly smiling. 

Anduin nodded, bringing his blade to the creature’s throat to quickly relieve it of any suffering. The hunting party behind them gave a polite congratulation for the successful trip. Cheers of excitement and thrill echoing among them. Genn looked to Anduin with pride, Valeera laughed joyously while Tess was offering a warm grin. 

“A fine hunt!”

“Well done, your majesty.”

“Look at the size of her!”

“We will eat well this evening!”

“My heart is racing…” 

“Excellent kill,” Nathanos nodded. He crouched down to the earth, looking over the boar carcass.

“The effort was all yours, really,” Anduin said to Nathanos with a flush. The king pushed his stray strands of blond hair out of his eyes, and hoped his face was not red from all the attention. 

Genn clapped a hand on Anduin’s shoulder. “Your father would be proud of you, my boy.”

Anduin blinked, hit by a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. “Thank you, Genn.”

“Now let’s get this thing back to the kitchens,” Valeera ordered. She set the nobles who had otherwise done very little to lift the heavy creature and move it. Perhaps it was amusing to see them fuss over getting their clothing dirty, but Anduin would not admit to such a thing publicly. 

The horses were rearranged so that the boar was strung up and carried back to the keep. Nathanos grumbled over the cons of waiting to gut the meat instead of doing it immediately. Anduin feared that the nobles present would be put off by the sight of Genn and Nathanos elbow deep in boar innards. 

As they entered the city of Stormwind, civilians lined the stone streets looking to see a glimpse of Anduin. Of the glamorous ceremony of a royal hunting party. Within a few hours they too would be joining in the festivities. Anduin’s feast would be open to the public, welcoming any who came to a wonderful meal and company. The nobles had brought food from their own lordships and holds to help supply the kitchens. It was an attempt to soothe the people’s woes over the current state of the war. Many families were going hungry, with little food to go around. They would take what they could home and feed off of it for weeks. Any extra would be donated to those in need as well. 

The boar was given to the keep’s butcher to be taken care of appropriately. Nathanos rewarded the foxhounds that assisted in the effort with bits of its carcass. Both out of fairness, and to train them to connect their role in the hunt with a prize. 

Later that night, after the nobles were drunk off sweetwine and the food had all been dealt with, Anduin retired to his chambers. Only a few minutes later Nathanos found him, silently stepping across the room to meet him. Anduin had been half undressed and preparing for bed, confused as to the purpose of the intrusion but pleased by it all the same.

“This was a… welcome distraction,” Nathanos said slowly. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Anduin smiled. His thumb worrying over the hem of his sleeping trousers. 

Nathanos huffed indignantly. “I didn’t say I  _ enjoyed _ it, brat.” Despite his harsh sounding words he was smiling.

“Of course not,” Anduin chuckled.  _ Sunshine. _

With that, Nathanos bowed and took his leave. When he finished dressing himself he climbed into the warm embrace of his bed. Sleep found him quickly.

In his dreams Anduin was with Varian again, hunting that first wolf in Elwynn forest. 


	6. Nathanos III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathanos shoots a prisoner, and takes another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the BfA canon divergence commence.

  
  


Alarm sirens blared in the streets as guards yelled to the civilians to remain in doors. The scent of burning flooded his senses. Stormwind became a frenzy in seconds. Horde intruders had infiltrated the Stockades, killed nearly a hundred 7th Legion soldiers, and fled with two highly valuable prisoners. 

And they were still within the city. 

Difficult as it was to abandon the king during such a situation, Nathanos knew the intruders’ objective now lied elsewhere. Escape. Anduin had an entire unit guarding him with heightened fervor. Valeera was no doubt somewhere within reach, and keeping a close eye on him. With the guard scrambling to block off all roads in and out, it was clear where they would be headed. 

Thanks to Anduin’s substantial skill as a healer, Nathanos’ injury had been patched up and dealt with without the need of any shadow priests. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, tending to him more like a mother than anything. After some stitches, and raw meat, Nathanos’ chest was entirely back to new. Not even a scar remained. 

The wonders of undeath.

Lilian would say that helping in such a situation would further improve the trust their allies had in them. A chance to show their loyalty. It was a beneficial side effect. Nathanos had nothing to lose by joining in the search, seeing as he had no attachment to the Horde outside of the Forsaken. A dead troll or two would be a welcome sight in his eyes. Even when he was still aligned with their faction he itched to indulge in some slaying of their refuse. 

Luckily, it didn’t take much time at all for the clumsy buffoons to be tracked down by Greymane’s forces with their strong noses and overwhelming devotion. Once Nathanos fell upon the Horde intruders’ trail it was easy to keep it, they clearly had no clue how to navigate through the streets and relied solely on their prophet to save them from certain doom. He wasn’t surprised to see Rokhan and Thalyssra among them, knowing the Horde still desired to make allies of the Zandalari trolls. If Nathanos had arranged it himself, they were the two he would send.

He watched as the Alliance’s men were cut down again and again. It would be foolish for him to try and intervene without proper assistance, or an advantageous window of opportunity. The group slowly made their way to the docks, the blasted prophet setting alight anything he could along the way. Soon the entirety of Stormwind would be up in flames, and no one would be able to prevent them from escaping out of conflicting priorities. 

Most would choose to save the civilian’s lives over pursuing the Horde further. Nathanos, however, was not most people. He didn’t feel a single shred of empathy for any of those who lived in the city except his own undead, and they had the mind to flee rather than sit inside burning buildings. 

The temperature in the air dropped to a biting chill as Proudmoore approached. She intercepted the group with a towering wall of jagged ice. Nathanos watched as the infiltrators panicked at the sight of her, running directly into another patrol of guards in order to avoid facing her. The guards were no match for them, much like all the others. Soon their bloodied bodies painted the signature stone of Stormwind.

The prophet led them further, to a hooded archer shrouded in darkness lying in wait along with two forsaken soldiers. Nathanos assumed they were the leader of the idiot crew. Chunks of ice bombarded the streets from above as the mysterious figure lowered their bow and revealed their face.

“You’ve failed in keeping a low profile I see.”

Nathanos froze. Of course, he knew they were a dark ranger from their attire. Having trained a great number of them himself he knew most of them well. Anya, one of his own, and one with the particularly troublesome ability to see through stealth. Thankfully she was distracted by the chaos around them, and the joys of scolding her allies for being morons. Still, Nathanos cursed beneath his breath in Gutterspeak. This could be dangerous for him. 

“No good,” Lilian whispered from close behind. “What should we do?” 

He did not take his eyes from his quarry, given that Lilian’s intrusion was not a shocking one. She had been in the keep when the alarms first sounded. 

“We wait and see. If we cannot prevent them from escaping, we might be able to at least  _ injure  _ them or take a captive. When the moment arises we target the princess. She is the key to all of this.”

“They’ll never ally with the Horde if she dies. They’ll also never let the Alliance forget it. Do we want to give our king another enemy right now?” Lilian wondered. 

“If the Zandalari join the Horde we might be killing her anyway,” Nathanos noted. “And we will become enemies regardless.”

The intruders fought their way through the docks. With their numbers bolstered they were cutting through with relative ease. Nathanos would need to have a talk with whoever taught these guards their battle tactics. Running in tiny bands of three or four, entirely outmatched when they could have easily been taking advantage of their superior numbers and surrounding them. He was almost astounded by how idiotic it all was. 

They made their way to the Zandalari ship, which had conveniently been left in the docks fit to sail. Seriously? It was as if the Alliance wanted them to get away. The poor showing of a defense was already bad enough, now their exit plan was just sitting there waiting for them? Nathanos was sure he’d be nursing a migraine by now if he could still have one at all. 

“If we want to act, we need to do it soon, Blightcaller,” Lilian whispered urgently.

“I know!” Nathanos snapped. 

He’d been basing his strategy on Proudmoore’s reappearance, and Nathanos was glad to see he’d been correct in assuming she wouldn’t give up so easily. Her words were harsh, barely withholding the cruelty she was so clearly wanting to unleash on them. She held back for the king’s sake. It was an unwise decision. 

“You have slain many innocents to get this far. But your little jailbreak is over. Surrender, and I will return you to the Stockades where you belong. There, you will await the king’s justice,” Jaina shouted, a storm of frost swirling around her and her mages.

Nathanos beckoned Lilian to follow him. They crept forward on the dock, both watching Anya for any sign she sensed them. So far she was more preoccupied with the chance of being frozen to death. Nathanos slowly, carefully drew back his arrow, setting his sights on Princess Talanji.

“ _ Take Anya, she’ll be of use to us if we break her,” _ Nathanos rumbled in Gutterspeak.

Lilian nodded. 

“You can try to subdue us, and likely succeed, But do you have time to waste?” Zul asked, smugly.

Apparently, Proudmoore had not noticed the fire wreaking havoc within the city until now. Her expression became tense as she weighed her options. “No it can't be..”

Zul’s amusement was apparent in his tone. “Seems a mage of your … skill could be very useful right now, hm?”

“This isn’t over!” Jaina hissed. The mages portaled away in a burst of cold.

Just as she made her exit, Nathanos released his arrow, and at the same time Lilian tossed her blade. Talanji lurched forward, her hands instantly going to her chest in confusion. The tip had pierced through to the other side. Her robes were already stained with the flow of blood. Something had pushed her to move at the last moment, causing the arrow to narrowly avoid hitting anything too vital.  _ Shit _ . 

The Horde intruders became a mess of panicked yelling. Raising their weapons and readying their magic for an unseen foe. 

The wound would not be fatal, a priest of her skill would repair themself quickly. But his arrow had been poisoned, a dark and insidious venom that hid unnoticed for days before suddenly taking over and paralyzing the victim. It was a reminder, nothing more. She would not die, but she would suffer for it. A nation could not utilize a weakened princess.

As he had instructed, Lilian’s blade did not meet its mark in Talanji. Instead it was lodged within Anya’s throat. 

Zul and Rokhan herded Talanji onto the boat, while the Forsaken attempted to drag Anya along. There was a magical barrier protecting the trolls, but the undead? Nathanos fired two more arrows, dropping them to the ground. Anya fell with them, a garbled cry coming from her torn throat. She wouldn’t die from the injury either, but Nathanos would be shocked if any of the living there knew what amount of damage the undead could and couldn’t take. 

“Leave them!” Zul ordered. 

Thalyssra reached a hand out to her fallen allies before turning away and running to the ship. A strange beam of light flashed on the deck, illuminating the sky around them. Then the boat shot out of the harbor as if it were possessed by some unseen force.

Nathanos approached the three bodies that were left behind. Lilian followed him silently. 

“ _ Blightcaller _ ! You fucking traitor!” Anya howled at the sight of them. Her voice was wet and ugly with the damage to her throat. Her words bubbled and spilled over like a boiling stew. She weakly attempted to stand, her arms bracing the ground. Nathanos stomped on her chest to prevent her from moving.

“You’ve chosen the wrong side.”

“All that Sylvanas has done for you, and you repay her like this? She loved you!” Anya looked up to him with untamed fury. Her lips drew back as she bore her sharp teeth in a defiant snarl, they were smeared with her own blood.

He ground his boot down into her torso. It was not that her words did not cut him to the bone, for they certainly had. The same thoughts echoed within his head on a nearly hourly basis. The moment’s adrenaline was all that kept him from crashing back into his thoughts. All he had room for now was hate. 

“Her love is conditional, fool. As soon as you cease being useful to her, you’re as much as dead.” Nathanos growled.

“Blind obedience is the folly of many,” Lilian added coldly. 

A patrol of guards appeared behind them with the telling clanking of armor. It was only a handful of men, whatever few could spare to peel themselves away from the burning city were now amassing along the dock. Assessing the damage that had been done. Countless lives had been lost, and many more would join them if the fires weren’t taken care of. It was all a huge fucking mess.

“Blightcaller, sir,” a guard rapt his fist to his chestplate. He bowed his helmeted head as a show of respect. It was quite amusing how quickly the forces of the Alliance deferred to him despite their clear discomfort doing so. 

“The prisoners have escaped,” Nathanos scowled, stepping off of Anya in order to allow the guards to take her into custody. Two of them scrambled to pick her up by her arms. “But the princess has been injured, and we now have a useful tool at our disposal. Take these three to the Stockades.  _ And don’t lose them _ . They may look like they’re dying, but they are all still fully capable of outsmarting you idiots.”

“Yes, sir!”

The man who had spoken to him began barking orders at his fellow guards. The three Forsaken were chained and placed onto a cart for swift transport. It only took a small measure of threatening and rough handling until they stopped trying to fight back. Anya continued flinging curses in Gutterspeak at him all the while. 

Nathanos turned to Lilian, his thoughts on the dark ranger. She could provide them with valuable information on Sylvanas’ plans. Something he could no longer predict given the length of time he’d been away from her now. Perhaps they might even be able to turn her over to their side, and act as a double agent. “How open do you think our king is to torture?”

“For her or…?” Lilian snickered behind her hand. “Are you considering flogging the little lion?”

The mental image suggested by those words was one Nathanos was quick yet reluctant to chase away from his brain. To burn sins into his divine flesh… “Forget I said anything. Goodbye,” Nathanos pointedly walked away. 

“Perhaps the holy king has a mischievous side? Hm? All those religious types do. A bit of pain with his pleasure. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

_ Why yes, it would.  _ It had been so very long since Nathanos had been subjected to a good beating. To be gagged and spanked by the pretty little king, well, he could admit the idea was an attractive one. Though he assumed that was not the role Lilian foresaw him taking in this make believe scenario. Her loss.

But those were all deep dark secrets he was going to keep locked inside of him until the day he died. Instead of fueling her any further, Nathanos asked monotonically, “You’re still talking?” 

“Don’t pretend that doesn’t interest you, Blightcaller. I know how you are!” Lilian hooted.

“I’m certain your thoughts on me are enlightening to say the least.” 


	7. Anduin III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anduin has two surprises for Nathanos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very happy with this chapter or the next one, but they get the plot moving along so (shrug).
> 
> Enjoy!

The day after Stormwind was infiltrated had been a nightmare, to say the least. After the fires themselves had been dealt with, other issues came about. Security measures were a high priority, damage had to be assessed, debris cleared. The fallen had to be accounted for, their families countacted and remains taken care of. Those whose homes had suffered heavy damages had to be compensated and momentarily relocated. Anduin had to meet with countless advisors to get everything done. Then he had to speak with his allies over how to retaliate with regards to the situation with Zandalar. He was thoroughly tired and ready to pass out after dinner was served.

He was alone in the war room now except for a few guards and servants still milling about. Wyrmbane finally finished outlining his plans a few moments earlier. Pins and markers covered blown up images of the maps of Zandalar and Kul Tiras with notes scribbled down hastily. 

Anduin looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, catching Nathanos’ striking red eyes not for the first time that evening. He’d been essential in sorting through all of today’s business and providing helpful advice. Though Anduin was confused as to why he chose to leave just to come back again.

“Good evening, Nathanos.”

“Good evening,” he returned with a slight bow. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. Maps and plastic replicas are poor company at this hour.”

“I was just finishing up. I pray you didn’t go searching all over for me?”

Nathanos tilted his head and raised a thick eyebrow. “I would be a poor ranger if I had. Now, Is there a reason why that bag is breathing?” he interjected, referring to the medium sized messenger bag sitting upon the war table. It was, as he said, breathing. The boundaries of the fabric seemed to move of their own accord.

Anduin chuckled, flipping open the leather flap to reveal a small corgi puppy, huffing and wiggling its tiny body at the sight of them. It crawled out and onto the table, knocking over an Alliance battleship in the process. 

“My kennelmaster brought this little friend to me after our meetings ended. I asked for her to be delivered to me as soon as her litter was ready to leave their mother,” Anduin smiled. He pet the creature from head to tail in broad strokes. She twisted her head back and tried to lick at his hand. 

“How could I expect any other partner for you?” Nathanos said flatly. 

“Well. Not for me, actually. I heard that in the past you worked closely with hounds, raising them and training them. You also seemed to rather enjoy the company of the foxhounds during the hunt. I know that my personal royal kennels don’t exactly produce the best warbeasts, but I thought you would… appreciate the gesture.”

“That is, thoughtful of you,” Nathanos visibly tensed. 

“Keeping a pet is often used as a form of healing. Having something else reliant on your care, well, to put it plainly I thought you could use a friend. It’s presumptuous but–“

“It’s alright, your majesty,” Nathanos said quietly, looking to the puppy with a deeply conflicted expression.

“If you do not want her, I can take her back to the kennelmaster?” Anduin said.

“No. No, I would like to have her. Thank you. I may seem ungrateful, but I lost many of my hounds during the Battle of Lordaeron. And let the last two run free when I fled the Horde. This is a kind gift. Even if she won’t do well for any warfare,” Nathanos seemed to attempt a weak smile, but he only appeared sad in the end. 

It was a look Anduin had never seen on him before. It made his heart ache in tandem. Losing a pet was never easy, but he couldn't imagine what it was like for a hunter to lose theirs. One that they had trained from birth, fought alongside in countless encounters. It would be akin to losing family. 

Nathanos took the corgi into his hands gently, far gentler than Anduin believed he was capable of being. Holding the dog close to his face, the two had some sort of primal staring contest. Nathanos’ harsh red eyes boring into the little thing’s round brown ones. The staring was only broken when the dog released a breathy, yet excited yap, and licked up his nostril.

“She plays dirty,” Nathanos laughed, a genuine honest laugh. “There may be some use to you yet, beast.”

“There are other pups in the kennels from her litter, if you would like more. Otherwise they’re going to be spoiled lap dogs for the rest of their lives.”

“The horror,” Nathanos deadpanned. “Greymane will be having competition for the king’s favorite–“

“Yes, yes. Dog jokes. Very funny, how mature,” Anduin rubbed at his eyes blearily. “You two, I swear. Well with that, what have you come to see me for, Nathanos? You aren’t usually one for ‘pointless conversation’,” he said, dropping his voice a few octaves to mimic Nathanos’ dour tone. 

“There’s an orc in our cells,” Nathanos said, seemingly unimpressed by his impression. He cradled the puppy in his arms like a newborn child, making sure to support its head and neck.

“Lord Saurfang was captured during the Battle of Lordaeron,” Anduin supplied. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

“Sylvanas sent a group to rescue two trolls from the Stockades for the political advantage it would bring them. They had to pass his cell to get to Talanji’s, yet he is still here, in Stormwind. Even if he refused to come, Sylvanas could have easily prepared for that. She gains nothing from allowing her High Overlord to remain in our hands.”

“Especially after she lost you as well,” Anduin nodded thoughtfully. “What do you think she’s playing at?”

“Lilian has informed me that Shaw’s attempts at interrogating Anya have met little success, given that I have not been permitted to use the methods I would usually employ. Or to see her at all,” Nathanos grumbled and crossed his arms.

“I can’t allow you to torture her,” Anduin frowned. He feared that a fight was brewing between them. “But if you’re making little progress, I don’t know what else we can do besides…”

“Dark rangers are trained to withstand interrogation. The most loyal of Sylvanas’ men. It won’t be easy to break her, not without me.”

Employing the use of shadow magic was a desperate gambit. Anduin would not stoop to that level unless no other options worked. He abhorred the use of inhumane tactics such as torture, even if it came at the cost of efficiency or victory. It was not winning in his eyes, if he forced his troops to lose a piece of themselves in the process. 

“Perhaps she simply needs time?” Anduin suggested weakly. He knew his protests were falling on deaf ears, and that time was a resource they had little of. 

“It’s… possible,” Nathanos rumbled, clearly unconvinced. “Even without Anya’s information, Sylvanas often makes grand plans without informing any of her close allies on the details. Whether they gain the Zandalari or not, is up in the air, but it’s clear she wants to exploit the Alliance’s naval weakness in some way.”

“Our strength will never match up against them at sea,” Anduin said grimly. “We need to find allies as they have, but our options are limited. I know Kul Tiras has fought with Stormwind in the past, but our bond with them has been severed. And our best hope in restoring it will likely be put in danger for attempting to meet with their Lord Admiral.”

“You speak of Proudmoore?” Nathanos asked. “If she is willing to play as a diplomat, then whatever dangers we face are more personal than political. A familial dispute deciding the fate of the Alliance… Perhaps someone else would be more suitable, even if she is their Lord Admiral’s daughter.”

“I know that it has to be her. The risk is great, but it’s the best option we have. Jaina came to me first about this, in fact. She offered in private.”

“Then the matter is settled?” Nathanos huffed. 

Ah.

“Not quite. I need to have someone I can trust there with her, to make sure this does not fail. That’s why I’m sending you,” Anduin allowed himself a small smile. 

Nathanos’ jaw fell open. There was a long pause before he managed to spit any words out. “What?!” 

The corgi yapped with her new master. 

“You will go along with Jaina and ensure that the Kul Tirans join the Alliance.”

“Respectfully, have you fallen and hit your head? When have I ever given the impression that I have any diplomatic skill at all?” Nathanos’ expression was beyond skeptical. The puppy wormed her nose into his beard.

“You’re the best strategist in Stormwind,” Anduin pointed out. “You can speak with the Lord Admiral and show her that she needs us as much as we need her. You are also one of the few officers I have not already tied up in other affairs at the moment. I’m sure with you there it will all work out.”

“My king, you have… quite some faith in me. If that is what you wish then so be it, I will go with Proudmoore. When will we depart?” 

Anduin was glad Nathanos caved into the idea, because it wasn’t a request. He hadn’t wanted to force the issue, but he would have if he kept walking circles around it. 

“In less than a week’s time. Prepare yourself for the journey,” Anduin ordered. 

Nathanos made a sound of annoyance. It would mark the first time Anduin planned on utilizing him as an asset for the Alliance. While he had helped during the attack on Stormwind, he did so in the heat of the moment. Now Nathanos would be an envoy, respectfully serving as a symbol of their people. This was new territory for him.

Anduin hoped it would be a gentle push in the right direction. For Nathanos to get his feet wet, and for the rest of Azeroth to acknowledge his position. 

“Now that that matter is settled, there’s still the orc. I can’t imagine you only wish for him to rot in his cell. He’s much too useful of a tool for that.”

“You have such a… pessimistic way of thinking, Nathanos,” Anduin sighed. “I haven’t yet spoken to him actually. Perhaps it would be best to amend that now.”

“Now?” Nathanos repeated.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Anduin raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn't like me even marginally. We do not get along, not when we were supposed to be allies. And especially not now when the Warchief isn’t here forcing us to be civil with one another. I can’t promise we’ll play nice if I come with you,” Nathanos grumbled.

He laughed mirthfully at the idea of the two somber old soldiers fighting like children. “I’ve had to deal with my father and Garrosh Hellscream in the past. You underestimate my ability to handle angry men.”

“I see, well then. If you are so certain, your majesty. Let us go to the Stockades,” Nathanos bowed his head and promptly left the room with corgi in arm. 


	8. Nathanos IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anduin hatches a plan. Nathanos realizes some things. Saurfang is annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Blizzcon day. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  


Rather than carry the dog along with him, Nathanos deposited her in his chambers while he was busy with the matter at hand. Ensuring to set up a small dish of water for her, and a small stack of blankets for comfort. 

The path they took into the Stockades was swarming with officers after yesterday’s mess. They only unclotted the way at the sight of Anduin’s shimmering armor, and his polite voice requesting they  _ please _ move. Nathanos was surprised to note that very few of the faces he saw looked back at him in disgust. It was quite a change, given the only earnest smile he’d seen since coming to Stormwind was Anduin’s. 

Perhaps his assistance in taking down Anya and injuring the princess had actually helped his abysmal reputation. Even if only mildly. Or perhaps they just had more important matters to attend to than wasting effort on hating him.

Anduin stopped just before reaching Saurfang’s cell, turning to the guards milling about around them. With a simple order he cleared the area leaving only Nathanos at hand. 

“He’s all I need, truly,” the king reassured and waved away any who hesitated. And there was the glimmer of satisfaction of knowing Anduin trusted him enough to be alone with him and one of his former ‘ _ allies _ .’ 

Passing the stone walls and stepping before the open bars of Saurfang’s cell, Anduin stood silently. Saurfang slowly lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked upon the boy. Then, as he noticed Nathanos beside him, he began to growl. His lips curled back against his tusks in disgust. It was an odd feeling seeing the once proud man hunched over and shoved away in such a place. There was a sizable amount of tension between them ever since Nathanos had been thrust into a position where they had to pretend to be affiliates. They agreed on practically nothing, and shared quite contrasting opinions on the Horde.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here, with  _ him? _ ”

“I can tell that you’re  _ so _ happy to see me.” Nathanos said. “Many, many things have changed, as of late.”

“You’re on the wrong side of these bars,” Saurfang hissed. “After everything you’ve done for her…  _ How can you allow him to walk beside you? _ ”

“Nathanos Blightcaller now serves the Alliance, he has shown his loyalty, and earned my trust,” Anduin interjected. “He sought out refuge for the Forsaken, and in return swore an oath to personally protect House Wrynn. I have no reason to believe otherwise, and if I did I can assure you he would be restrained in a similar fashion.”

“A scorpion will sting those who help him, even if it will kill him. It’s in their nature.” Saurfang muttered. It was clear he didn’t particularly like Anduin’s answer, but saw it as satisfactory for the moment being. 

“Becoming philosophical, aren’t we?” Nathanos scoffed. 

Anduin stepped closer to the bars of the cell, his hands reaching into a pocket to reveal a ring of keys. “I must ask you… At Lordaeron you had the chance to end my life. Maybe even end the war.”

“My king? What are you doing, are you daft?” Nathanos blurted out, alarmed. He had ordered all his men away, having wanted to stand face to face with an orc three times his size? This was madness. 

Anduin ignored him completely, sticking the correct key into the lock and pulling open the cell door. Without pausing, he entered and continued speaking. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Saurfang eyed him from beneath the shadows set on swallowing him whole in their darkness. “Could kill you now,” he countered, standing to his massive height and towering over the two of them. “Blightcaller won’t be quick enough to save you.”

If Nathanos needed any more of a reason to be on guard in that moment, that sent him over the edge. Without a thought put into the action he took an arrow from his quiver and nocked it in less than a second. He wasn’t above releasing a growl of his own, low and vibrating with the strange frequency of undeath. 

Anduin looked back to Nathanos, taking his eyes off of the potential threat standing before him. “Drop your weapon.”

“Your majesty?” Nathanos questioned, confusion palpable. His hold on his bow wavered, but did not cease. “My loyalty may be one you deem proven, but his is not. You cannot risk yourself like this to make a point! You said it yourself, I am sworn to protect you. Don’t be so rash with your life, Anduin!”

“I gave you an order,” Anduin pressed. His face was expressionless, and his words bordered on cold. Nathanos couldn’t point out where he had mistepped for Anduin to regard him in such a way. 

“ _ Yes,  _ my king…” 

Why did he care, if the little lion wanted to be suicidal? There was a worry that took over him at the very thought. It was more than the instinct of self preservation. If the king died, then Greymane would take his place as the line of succession had been established. Yes, the old wolf had been fueled by hatred for the undead in the past, but had never regarded Nathanos with nothing more than mild annoyance as of late. He trusted Anduin’s decision and even defended Nathanos against Tyrande’s scorn. The war would carry on with even more ferocity, both factions rallied by such an influential death. Yet it would bear no personal ill to Nathanos, what he needed had already been settled. His people had been accommodated for and protected under the terms of their agreement. He had nothing to lose.

Yet Nathanos did not want to live in a world without the damned boy. 

“You’ve trained him just like her. He belongs on a  _ leash _ ,” Saurfang said. He looked at Nathanos with contempt, and his tone was scathing. 

Nathanos stared back, eyes blazing a defiant red glow in the darkness of the Stockades. The shine reflected off of the surface of Anduin’s finely polished armor. 

“You would do well not to compare me to Sylvanas,” Anduin warned, a hint of something almost dangerous in his expression. 

Saurfang had the sense to appear aware of his mistake. He shook his head and huffed, looking back to the king. Now they had both been scolded by Anduin, with his quiet and contemplative anger. It was all the more humiliating to earn the ire of someone so foolishly generous and patient. Nathanos felt it, faintly, even despite the numbness of undeath. A pinch of shame biting at him. No doubt Saurfang felt it as well. 

“I misspoke,” the orc bowed his head slightly.

Anduin picked up with his line of questioning from before. Each word was spoken with a punch of emotion, his voice growing progressively more distraught and strained.“I spared you back then because I believe you have honor. Was I wrong? Do you want more innocents to suffer? The Horde…”

“ **I have given everything for the Horde** ! Bled for it! Killed for it! and Sylvanas is destroying it! She will destroy everything! What I want…” Saurfang snapped like a bow overdrawn, every inch of his bulging muscle tensed and leapt towards Anduin. He tossed aside a table with ease, throwing it across the cell causing it to smash into a wall, and splinter into pieces. 

Nathanos could not sit idle and watch as the scene unfolded before him, as much as it went against his nature to defy a direct order from his superior. He threw himself in front of Anduin, physically blocking Saurfang’s path to the king as the orc roughly pinned them both against the cell’s metal bars. His massive fist slammed into the stone of the walls, sending dust and bits of rock raining down on them. Nathanos growled not unlike a beast at the seething man’s imposing bulk, his eyes glowing white hot in rage, his entire body raised on the defensive. One of his hands had come to Anduin’s side, ensuring the man still stood behind him. His other resting over the haft of one of his hatchets.

“You dare—“ Nathanos said between clenched teeth, razor sharp fangs bared in aggression.

If Saurfang wanted to threaten Anduin like a brute, Nathanos would stoop to his low, and lower, to protect his king. 

“… is my Horde back,” Saurfang finished. The fire he had a moment before seemed to drain out of him as swiftly as it came. He snarled and pulled away, turning his back to the hissing undead, and strangely sirene human. The darkness in the back of the cell enveloped him once more. He braced his hands on another table, arms straight and shoulders tight. 

“Maybe I was wrong about you, Blightcaller. You were her most loyal dog, and now you’re here, defending the Alliance king. Perhaps there’s more to you...”

Seeing that the danger had passed for the time being, Nathanos removed himself from Anduin and looked to the boy. Instead of any annoyance or fear Nathanos would expect to see, his expression was enigmatic and practically indecipherable. He looked as if he was appraising a stallion showing at a race rather than staring down an orc that almost attacked him, could have crushed him.

The dying sun streaming through the cell’s tiny window hit Anduin’s face directly. Casting an ethereal halo around his head, playing upon his soft golden hair and gentle yet strong features. His skin was radiant, and his pale blue eyes possessed an intricate depth that left Nathanos staring  _ far  _ longer than what was reasonable.

Thankfully, Anduin’s attention was not on him. 

“Even those led astray may one day see the Light and be welcomed by its embrace,” Anduin said warmly. “Change is possible for anyone, as long as they truly wish for it.”

Nathanos felt like he was being preached to. It made his skin crawl. Religion and the undead mixed poorly. 

“Even him,” Saurfang exhaled raggedly. 

“Even him,” the king said gently. “Saurfang. Tell me why you spared my life.”

“I hoped… you… would stop her,” the orc admitted. Exhaustion wearing down his words. 

Anduin’s brows furrowed, his expression pinched. He glanced at Nathanos before looking back to Saurfang. “I can’t.”

Something in Nathanos’ chest tightened at the confession. The king turned away, causing Saurfang to study him curiously, watching his languid movements. Anduin opened the door and walked out of the cell, pointedly holding it ajar. Nathanos swiftly made his exit and waited behind him dutifully. 

“Not alone,” Anduin said. “We stand stronger  _ together _ . Join us.”

“I will never leave the Horde, I’m not like  _ Blightcaller _ . I have no past here to cling to.”

“If you think I came to the Alliance because of some faint connection to my previous life, you clearly don’t know me at all. Everything I was, is gone. I destroyed that man long ago,” Nathanos shot back irritatedly. 

_ I don’t even wear the same face, now. Nathanos Marris is dead. _

“You were human once.”

“Working alongside us is all I ask. You need not pledge yourself to the Alliance,” Anduin said.

Saurfang regarded the two of them thoughtfully, perhaps weighing the consequences in his head. He took a step forward, and then another, until he was ducking under the doorway of his cell and filling out the hall beside them. 

Anduin’s face stretched into a warm smile as he regarded the orc, giving a polite bow. Saurfang slowly returned it in kind. Nathanos crossed his arms rather than give Saurfang the satisfaction of seeing the undead defer to him. 

“There are many in the Horde like me,” Saurfang explained gruffly. “I plan to seek them out, we can unite our forces.”

“We will see to it that you do, but for now, we must get you away from the city. Nathanos will lead you out of Stormwind without being seen.”

Nathanos begrudgingly nodded in acceptance of the task, though the idea of sneaking anywhere with an orc felt daunting. Let alone in the heart of Stormwind after security had been heightened. Perhaps he could toss a blanket over him.

Saurfang regarded Nathanos with a pinched expression, but didn’t vocalize any complaints. “So be it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @Seraphimwater!


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